Surfing isn’t just for ocean waves and the Worldwide Web anymore. In fact, in the world of the serious traveler, couch surfing not only facilitates matching free accommodations of a lone traveler with a willing host, but also serves as an international network of people hoping to seek and create a deeper sense of cultural understanding.
This is the mission of Couchsurfing.org, an online community connecting people with others around the globe by providing a sort-of matchmaking service for the true wanderer. The initial appeal of couch surfing may very well be the absence of a bill slipped under your door in the morning. But after scrolling through the testimonials and statistics of “positive experiences” on Couchsurfing.org, it seems that once you crash on the couch of a welcoming local in far-off places like Poland, Ghana or Jamaica, you may never opt to stay in a centrally-located, expensive hotel again.
Couchsurfing.org is the non-profit brainchild of 28 year-old Casey Fenton, whose full-time job is now keeping the Web site and its thousands of members up and traveling. As a registered member of Fenton’s site, you can request accommodations according to your planned travel route — much like requesting a friend on Facebook — and then, if offered a couch, a bed or even a whole room, you can connect with your host and secure your accommodations. You are under no obligation to host if you surf. Don’t feel like riding the couch? Then just register solely as a host. You can even simply support Couchsurfing.org as a project without offering up any space in your home.
Membership is on the rise among young, independent globetrotters who hope to experience more than the typical tourist list of things-to-do. These new set of explorers also are looking to stretch their travel budget. The art of couch surfing seems to have manifested into an underground culture of its own, complete with its own lingo, set of rules and a strict adherence to etiquette, gratefulness and most of all, adventure.
In a way, couch surfing represents a commitment to the human spirit by encouraging people to interact, share and learn from each other. It brings travelers closer to the real experience of a place so that they can reflect, understand and ultimately appreciate the true dynamic of their destination.
photo by ryan jesena
“Whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.” — Max Ehrmann
I suffer from a commitment phobia. Not the I-can’t-settle-with-one-guy kind. It’s more of a I-can’t-settle-with-myself sort of a thing. After graduating last June, I’ve been inundated with questions pressuring me to solidify my future. Innocuous as they may seem, questions like “What are you going to do with your life?” and “Where do see yourself in ten years?” have become the bane of my existence. My response has always been an ambiguous circumlocution followed by a swift subject change. It’s taken a while to come to this point, but I’m finally okay with the simple and truthful answer, “I don’t know.”
As the progeny of hard-working baby boomers, our generation has benefited economically, technologically, and culturally. Yet despite our higher education (most of us are either in college or have just graduated), we have been sorely misinformed. As my 22 years have shown me, we believe that we need the perfect job now, the perfect apartment now, the perfect life now. We are the Now-Now-Now generation, equipped with a sense of entitlement that has turned around to bite us in the asses.
Don’t get me wrong – I know how fortunate I am to have supportive parents, to have been raised in a comfortable home, to have a top-notch education. But in my post-collegiate state, where an eternity of possibilities lie before me, my need to have everything right now has crippled me, making me feel as if there’s something wrong with the fact that there’s no clear-cut future in line.
I spent the summer after graduation at my parents’ house, scouring job sites with the aplomb of an egomaniac. For better or for worse, an English degree doesn’t prepare you for a direct career path, so I was applying for positions in every industry. I naively gave myself three months to find a job; then I would move out to start my adult life. I thought that my prestigious education and stellar extracurriculars would make me a shoe-in for entry-level work. Unfortunately, when three months passed, I was still jobless. And apartmentless. But I was determined to move out anyway.
Homeless and unemployed, I spent the last month-and-a-half couch-surfing and continuing my job hunt. It wasn’t exactly how I pictured life after college, but I’ve come to terms with my situation. While I could have done without the aching back (sleeping on couches will do that to you), I’m grateful for what I’ve gained.
I’m closer to the friends that I crashed with thanks to their generosity. I’m amazed at my family’s capacity for support during my transitional time. Most importantly, I’m more self-aware and self-forgiving. As an English major, I’ve had to read a lot of books, and when dealing with time constraints, there was admittedly some skimming involved. Now, with a little more time on my hands, there’s no need to skip to the end. The best part of a novel is the development of the characters, finding out how they got to that final objective. The same applies to me. As cliché as it sounds, life is about the journey, not the destination. So pack lightly, wear comfortable shoes, and keep a good record of what happens because I’d like to hear your story if we ever meet along the way.